


It Wasn't Supposed To Happen This Way

by TheMockingCrows



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cloaca, M/M, Nudity, Restraint, mentions of handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/pseuds/TheMockingCrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davesprite is trying so hard to be human for Dirk. How human does someone have to be to truly make a human mistake as simple as getting caught up in your own shirt, though?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Wasn't Supposed To Happen This Way

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be perfect. The entire evening was planned from start to finish, and Davesprite had more than just thought it through. Every single step had been planned out to the minute, from bringing Dirk into his room and getting him into his nest to relax, to macking on him, and eventually to rocking his world.

Not getting tangled up like a moron in his own shirt, arms over his head, wings trying to snap and flap him loose, tail scrabbling around like a blinded snake. Freedom was not that simple. It was true, as a sprite he should have been able to simply poof off his shirt, use the sudden disappearance as a cheesy come on and a reason to remove Dirk’s. Preferably with his teeth, or by rending it with his claws as long as he was careful. Maybe slicking his tail up along that toned chest and twisting the fabric from the inside to pull and shred it away.

Messy and loud, and maybe a little embarrassing.

For Dirk. Not for Davesprite himself. Dirk was supposed to be embarrassed and shirtless and delicious. Not like this. God, why, why had it happened this way?! Something unsuspected had gone terribly wrong.

Not ten minutes ago, everything was smooth. Perfect. A one way trip to Bonerville, population his boyfriend. Davesprite had spent time that morning bathing, doing his hair, preening his wings and neck ruff obsessively so he could have his nest in perfect order and not a feather out of place. His shirt was left on, not wanting to poof it off of his back ahead of time. No, no. No poofing. This was going to be as normal as possible, as close to human as he could get for this.

He was confident that he could pull it off over his head if he was careful. Just tuck the wings in and tug the shirt off in one simple swoop, twist and wiggle and sexily flap his freaky way to glory. Davespite wanted to be more human for Dirk, a simple gesture compared to the actual sex that would be taking place, almost alien in nature by comparison.

For instance, instead of a standard package, Davesprite now sported a combo from his integration with the crow. His body kept the tender bits shielded away, tucked inside until he’d grow aroused enough to send forth the Leviathan from its feathery hiding place. How he was placed together any longer, Davesprite truly had no idea. There’d been no real urges to lay still and be visually dissected longer than he absolutely had to, learning whatever he could about himself through timid touches with his rough palms, the tip of his own tail, and more recently Dirk’s mouth and hands and dick.

That was more than enough.

But to offer a move he’d seen in movies a thousand times, and more fanfics than he cared to admit to? That would be quite a present. It would also be the first time he’d removed his shirt in front of Dirk, not coming to him shirtless already or leaving it bunched up beneath his arms as they rolled around.

Dirk had been easy to track down after a bit of searching, softly lit orange like a nightlight as he searched his usual haunts. The meteor, stripped bare as it was of useful things after three hard years of travel, held interest with him for random odds and ends of wires and parts, base materials. Books. Everyone’s houses held even more useful things for his obsessive tinkering. The ruins of his own planet offered adventure and relaxation, exercise, and space to get away from everyone when he felt overloaded.

Everyone but Davesprite.

The soft flutter of wings, the familiar coil of a strangely textured tail slipping around his leg was always welcome, the gentle heat. None of it intrusive, upsetting, demanding. Davesprite existed just at the edge of his perceptions, seeming to sense when he wasn’t wanting to be alone, when it was okay to touch and be playful. Just the same as Dirk was able to sense when Davesprite needed his space away from everyone.

Sufferer’s of self inflicted solitary confinement could recognize the needs of other sufferer’s almost automatically.

Dirk grinned softly to himself when his work table and laptop screen took on the warm orange tint as Davesprite lurked up behind him, leaning back into familiar warmth. Davesprite anchored down against the table leg so he could be more solid and less like a very strange balloon. His wings spread and curled forward as he snaked his arms around beneath his arms to hold him around the waist. Davesprite’s fingers stayed curled against his palms, not wanting to accidentally slice Dirk’s stomach.

“Hey,” was all he said.

“Hey yourself,” Dirk said in reply, covering the scaled fingers with his own gloved ones. He stroked at the knuckles, the harsh tendons and lines with the pads of his thumbs. “You up to something? Wasn’t expecting to see you till this evening.” When they would, inevitably it would seem lately, come together to spend the evening in one another’s company in one manner or another. The menu for the last few weeks had been heavy petting and blow jobs with the occasional foray into penetration if the mood struck at a good time.

“Well, if you wanna blow my cover like that. C’mon, you tell me if I’m up to somethin’. You doing somethin’ that can’t let you leave for a few hours?” Some of Dirk’s experiments or works in progress had to be tended to as closely as an infant, flammable or explosive, highly dangerous to anyone unskilled in precisely what to do with it.

“Depends on if the offer is compelling enough to argue with several hours of work. I’m at a point I can stop if needs be, but if I’m able to I’d most likely just keep going until I finished this piece.” Blunt as ever. His words weren’t meant as a brush off, despite their tone and delivery. Davesprite already knew that his work calmed him, was a monotonous, unchanging soothing cycle. With how stressful their lives were now, of course he’d always be willing to work his nights away.

Unless someone was of enough interest to keep him calm instead.

Cooing softly, Davesprite lifted up higher and ruffled the ends of his wings together into a loose cocoon around the two of them, kissing at Dirk’s neck. The kisses gave way to a few hungry nibbles, trying to be sexy till two gloves hands buried themselves into his ruff and began to itch and scratch in a way that was so pleasant it should be illegal. He peeped, puffed up in annoyance, and cawed at him till he stopped.

“Hey, hey! Knock that shit off, man, c’mon. I’m tryin’ to show you that I can rock your world and you go the cute route? Rude.”

Dirk just continued to give his half smirk, hands returning to his own waist to stroke at the rough hands, so different from his own in size. Most of their length was claws, their palms quite different in breadth and width and texture. He was so young, despite his mentality being so old. Very much a child in the path of a hardened adult, they were so alike. As well in levels of bullshitting. Being a wise ass was a huge point of their personalities, and nothing was going to stop that between them.

“You know it. Gotta love it when you get all ruffled like that, makes the gold come up in your cheeks. You can be all kinds of sickeningly cute and still do whatever freaky things you want. If you’re trying to blatantly hint at wanting to get me alone, I say it’s on. Lead away, dude, lead away.”

Dirk lifted his chin to tip his head back, nuzzling against Davesprite’s ruff with the back of his head. Thankfully, he felt it slowly deflate and return to normal. As if on cue, he cooed and nuzzled at Dirk’s face before peppering it with kisses.

“Let’s get date night on the way, then. Open the present and we’ll head on our way. Where to this time? The fields? The apartment?”

“My nest, actually. Y’know. From last time?” And the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that, panting and half clothed, one of them sweating golden yellow as the other darkened his tank top. They were transformed to waifs with hair sticking up and tufts of feathers, obvious to everyone, pretending to be oblivious with varying levels of success.

“I’ll bring some movies, we can let some shit play.” A bit of background sound to keep Dave’s peeps and caws and their moans from echoing too far through the ship’s main body. It’d be something good to actually watch, or fall asleep to as well. Someday soon, Dirk thought, he’d need to just bring a supply along with him and leave it in place considering he spent just as much time in that warm space as his own bed.

Abandoning the trappings of his busy afternoon, Dirk blindly bundled up some movies and let Davesprite lead him away, tail up around his waist like a leash to keep him focused. No random items to shove into his pockets to keep his hands busy. Davesprite would do plenty to occupy him.

They’d gotten to the ship without harassment, and into Davesprite’s messy room, clothes and scraps all over the floor, piles of belongings and collected items, and finally his massive nest. Aside from bits of soft feathers and woven scraps of fabric, Dirk could make out stolen clothes, sheets, shredded pillows, slain smuppets. He’d thrown one of the sheets over the tangled mess, trying to tidy it apparently. Making it more of a bed than the bird home he craved, at least in the bottom edges appearance. Dirk still threw in an extra plain pillow for the hell of it, shifted around the monitor in the corner and tossed in the first DVD on the stack.

A blast of fresh 90’s started to play too loud, the familiar music of Dumb and Dumber playing on the menu. Dirk had a feeling that Bro probably liked this movie, it’s simple comedy with allusions to higher humor if you actually took into perspective how dim the main characters were compared to the world around them. Layer upon layer upon layer of instances to catch the watchers attention. Dirk turned the volume down and pulled off his shoes before nimbly hopping over the rim of the, essentially, deep rimmed couch. Davesprite had already slithered into place, wings folded, eagerly patting the surfaces here or there to touch it up.

Make it perfect. Everything perfect. According to plan. The urge to preen himself just as obsessively was overwhelming, but once Dirk cuddled up next to him and rested his head on his shoulder, there was no more fretting outside of his own head. Within fifteen minutes they’d both snorted and started cracking jokes at the screen, ragging on it, relaxing. Within twenty, they’d started to kiss. Forty minutes alone in the nest, and they forgot that a movie was playing, Dirk gradually being shoved and pressed against the soft surface by the warm weight of the sprite’s tail and the rough edges of his palms.

Kissing gave way to heavy petting, Dirk stroking along Davesprite’s feather hidden fold till he began to leak traces of yellow and the tip of his erection began to extend outwards into view, slick and sensitive. Dirk got pressure from the gripping of the tail, from his palms, from his strangely proportioned hip. They murmured under their breath to one another, lips locked, faces flushed.

Dirk was reaching for his belt, ready to just open it to let him get the show on the road, when it had happened. Davesprite, erection free and driving him insane, had lifted his arms up over his head to pull his shirt up in a surprisingly fluid motion. First came the tuft of feathers at his waist, the toned stomach and chest, his chin.. and nothing more. He’d frozen, covered head rendering him perfectly calm for a moment before he began to struggle more. Dirk watched as the great wings shuffled and stretched, flapped, and started to bend at awkward angles.

“I.. wha-. What. Just. Ge-… Get off. OFF.” Davesprite grit his teeth and shuffled his shoulders side to side to try rocking loose, inching the shirt higher. One wing finally folded beneath the edge of the shirt, but got even more stuck, feathers backing up awkwardly. Davesprite’s arms were stuck, unable to reach down low enough to scratch it off, tail uselessly tugging.

He tried to poof the shirt off, angry, trapped, and found he couldn’t. If the shirt had remained down as the program said it should, then he would have been able to get free nearly instantly. By moving the shirt upwards, Davesprite had assured that the game recognized his own clothing as a glitch, and was unable to execute its standard appearance and disappearance protocols. Troubleshooting would take time to catch up. Time he didn’t have and didn’t want to spend.

Cawing, neck ruff puffed with rage, Davesprite fell forwards and wormed around, tail thrashing like a bullwhip as he attempted to get the shirt off. Dirk scooted out of the way and flattened against the edge of the nest, watching as his boyfriend rolled around and like some kind of possessed insect trying to escape its cocoon. He made the mistake of laughing, a lighthearted noise, and Davesprite grew still enough to hiss at him before panting in exhaustion. Yellow tinted his cheeks and stood out on his forehead in small drops.

“What in the fuck are you laughing at?” Davesprite asked, trying to control his breathing as well as he could. Don’t look desperate, don’t look like a trapped bird, stop flapping stupid. STOP FLAPPING. He squirmed again a few times, groaning and arching his back before finally letting out a slow pent up breath. “Come on, give me a hand, I can’t even reach the fabric to scratch it off.”

“But you were doing so well, a bit more squirming and you’d have likely reached a record of some sort. Maybe be a new scientific discovery.”

“Of what?”

“Worlds first chicken to emerge from a cocoon. I had no idea that they pupated.”

The thrashing began anew, Davesprite wiggling his hands in a silly threat considering he could no longer bend his elbows. Dirk dodged his attempts to bite him as he worked the shirt up over Davesprite’s face and then tucked it behind his head. He yanked it down solidly to his shoulders, tucking it into place, binding his arms even closer together as Davesprite struggled harder and began to stream curses steadily, breathing bordering on panic. The tail rose up like a bullwhip, trying to snap at his back till he caught the look in Dirk’s eyes when his head turned just right.

Interested, glassy, face flushed. He was smiling broadly without hesitation, something that usually took coaxing to get out in the open, and it was all for him. His antics, his helpless wriggling, maybe even something more. They’d never discussed kinks at all, deciding there were some things that would just come up when they came up, not wanting to get deeper into themselves. So soon, it was a higher risk of scaring one of them away, still so used to secrets and running and hiding from facts about themselves.

Dirk seemed to be responding to the view, visibly uncomfortable in his still buttoned pants, the pitched tent straining at the zipper as he tried his best to ignore it. Davesprite chewed at his lip for a moment, and decided to do what he used to do best: be the biggest ham imaginable. Be so blatantly obvious that he knew, and that he was surprisingly chill with it , that there would be no doubts between them. Anything but calling him out in the open. That’s not how Striders roll.

This could be enjoyed, despite the irritation of not being able to use his arms at all.

“….Come on, asshole. Undo the knots.”

Dirk could see the laughter in his orange eyes, the tick of a grin in his cheek that he fought down.

“Nah.”

The knots came undone by the end of the night, shirt slick with yellow sweat thrown heavily at the doorway when Dave peeked in to tell them dinner was on if anyone wanted any, a simple “fuck off” from the two drowsy lovebirds within the nests afterglow. The theme from the menu of a long forgotten movie was playing in the dark, lulling them to sleep as surely as Davesprite’s soft peeping.  

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr mirror- http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/52638035181/it-wasnt-supposed-to-happen-this-way


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